A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

Roy really didn't want to describe the situation with the cliché "a familiar yet unfamiliar ceiling," but he found himself doing so anyway.

The ceiling above him belonged to the very room he had lived in before his transmigration—his pre-transmigration bedroom. Roy lay there in his pajamas, staring at the ceiling as if waking from a deep dream.

"Was it… a dream?"

Roy sat up, holding his head in his hands. The memories of living over a decade in early 20th-century London were so vivid that they felt anything but illusory. If it had been a dream, it was far too long and far too real.

"No… this isn't right."

His attention turned to his hand. The skin was far too pale, unrecognizably different from the body he remembered. Even his pajamas felt smaller, as if he had outgrown them.

He quickly got out of bed, navigated his way to the mirror from memory, and froze when he saw his reflection.

The face in the mirror was not the Roy he had known as a Chinese photographer. It was Roy Crowley.

Roy—the "Roy" from Jiangsu with a mundane but content life—had parents who passed away of natural causes when he was 22. Being their only child, born late in their lives, he was doted on from birth. They left him two properties in Beijing: one for living, the other for renting. Thanks to this, Roy lived comfortably, free from financial worries.

His profession as a photographer was entirely passion-driven. Between wedding shoots and freelance cosplay projects, his life was fulfilling, even if uneventful.

His one flaw? He wasn't particularly handsome, and his dating history was sparse.

But now…

"By blood and spirit, my father is Aleister Crowley."

Roy stared at the mirror, his face stoic.

"So what is this? I transmigrated… only to transmigrate back?"

He shook his head in confusion, struggling to process this bizarre turn of events.

As Roy tried to make sense of it all, the air in the room changed. A subtle tension prickled across his skin, and he instinctively spun around.

Standing behind him was a familiar, spectral figure—the Holy Guardian Angel, Aiwass.

However, Aiwass's form appeared distorted, her ethereal body glitching like a static-riddled black-and-white television. She looked faint, as if she might dissipate at any moment.

"Aiwass?"

Seeing the familiar figure put Roy at ease. Strangely, the modern world now felt more alien to him than the magical and grimy streets of early 20th-century London.

"You've finally noticed me, Roy… I thought you might've lost the ability to see me altogether."

Aiwass's face, faintly glowing with a soft luminescence, displayed a rare expression of curiosity as she surveyed her surroundings.

Roy knew she wasn't just examining the room—she was taking in the entirety of this "world."

"I remember being hit by Aleister's magic," Roy began, his voice steady as he recalled the agonizing moment before he blacked out. He vividly remembered Aleister's despairing expression, the wrenching pain as his soul was torn apart.

"Did you… save me?"

"I did," Aiwass confirmed. "When Aleister's spell struck you, I used a form of possession to merge my essence with yours and shield you from the attack. Aleister's technique is powerful, but it has its limitations. While it can produce devastating, universe-shattering force, its output is proportional to the strength of its target."

"So… it's a case of 'stronger the opponent, stronger the spell'?"

"Exactly."

Aiwass's explanation clicked into place. Aleister's spell had produced an attack equivalent to an intercontinental missile—overkill against someone as weak as Roy. Such an attack was lethal for Roy but inconsequential for a being of Aiwass's stature. By merging with Roy, she had absorbed the attack effortlessly.

Roy's mind wandered back to something Aiwass had once told him: You are the one I've been searching for. You will lead me to a place I've long sought but never reached.

"That place…" Roy muttered, a realization dawning. "You weren't talking about the Imaginary Phase. You meant this world, didn't you?"

Aiwass's faint form brightened ever so slightly, a smile curling across her lips.

"This world is indeed part of what I've been seeking. It's not everything, but it is a crucial piece. I'm fortunate to have found you first. Had the Magic Gods discovered you before me, they would've imprisoned you and used you as a key to access this realm."

Roy felt a shiver run down his spine. "Fantastic. So I'm basically walking bait for Magic Gods now."

Aiwass's expression remained calm.

"You carry within you something the Magic Gods covet deeply—'ideal and hope.'"

Roy wasn't amused. "Ideal and hope? Great. That just makes me a bigger target."

Roy tried to center himself, pulling out his phone to check the date and time. He was stunned to find that only a single night had passed since he "left." To anyone else, it would seem like he had just overslept.

Feeling ravenous, Roy raided his fridge, devouring everything in sight. After years of poverty in London, every bite was a celebration.

Between mouthfuls, he turned to Aiwass. "What exactly is this world?"

"Do you know of the Kabbalah's Four Worlds theory?"

Roy nodded, his familiarity with the concept thanks to Aleister's library. "The theory divides the universe into four worlds: Atziluth (Archetype World), Briah (Creation World), Yetzirah (Formation World), and Assiah (Material World). Humans exist in Assiah, while angels and other higher beings reside in the worlds above."

Aiwass continued, her tone measured.

"This world… may lie beyond Atziluth, or even above it. The Magic Gods, despite their infinite power, are bound within the Four Worlds. None can transcend them."

"Yet you," she added, her voice laced with intrigue, "are capable of traveling between the Four Worlds and this 'outside' realm. It is why the Magic Gods would stop at nothing to claim you."

After a pause, Aiwass spoke again, her tone resolute.

"I have decided, Roy. Until now, I merely observed your journey, intending to remain uninvolved. But you have given me far more insight and surprises than I expected. From this moment forward, I will intervene in your life. Together, we may uncover even more truths."

Her gaze pierced through him. "So, Roy, what is it you desire most right now?"

Roy smirked, his voice steady.

"What do I desire? It's simple. To raise the sword of rebellion against my glamorous father.

"If it weren't for Aleister's negligence—his failure to act as a father, his promiscuity, his complete disregard for the consequences of his actions—none of this would have happened. Not to me. Not to Laura."

His fists clenched.

"Before anything else, I need to figure out how I transmigrated… and how to do it again."

Roy's eyes burned with determination.

"And then one day, I'm going back."